


Raven hair; Still lake eyes

by JustabookjunkieIneednohelp



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, Biting, Bruises, Denial of Feelings, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, F/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV Female Character, POV Male Character, Roughness, Teasing, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 01:26:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18355760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustabookjunkieIneednohelp/pseuds/JustabookjunkieIneednohelp
Summary: An AU:Lorcan had left his conscience on a forgotten dirt road to a nameless town. Beginning to feel. To care for the first time in a long time, he rejects Elide's offer to join her in bed for one meaningless night.But how long will Lorcan's restraint last when Elide; cold and imperious, does not seem to care about his newfound principles?Will he be able to hold himself back as she turns to another?Or will he give in to the rage that shatters his control, making his very blood thrum at the thought of Elide unravelling under his fingers?* "Say please Elide."I grazed my nose over his throat, tremblingwith want."Say. Please."His fingers curled inside me in demand.I was unable to stop the whimper that slippedpast my lips. I felt him grin as he spoke, voicehoarse: [...] *





	Raven hair; Still lake eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> There's sadistic undertones, so don't read if it's not for you. Also, hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Tell me if you want more one shots of ToG, or ACOTAR characters.
> 
> Kudos, comments and crtiques are greatly appreciated.
> 
> Enjoy. <3

Breathlessly: "I... I can't." 

Derisively: "You can't?"

"I can't. I -- fuck -- I actually can't." A flash of laughter fettered across his pale eyes, a melted portion in the frozen lake, not quiet warmth, but less frigid that the ice around it. 

He turned away, linking his arms behind his head. There was something akin to emotion in his onyx eyes. They were the depthless bottom of a still lake; black and without light.

I leaned back, sliding my hands into the loops of my jeans. White leather, their authenticity questionable, execution flawless, so it hadn't mattered much I suppose. What did matter was that I was wearing them, wearing them for one purpose. A purpose this man seemed hell bent on ruining. How apt that when I did find someone who I was willing to have a dalliance with, he had a breakdown. Or, whatever this was. Perhaps the reach of imbeciles had exceeded far further than I thought. 

For there was only one way to describe this situation; moronic. Even though the air was warm, it had enough of a bite to aggravate my foot, twisted and mauled in a childhood injury. Mildly irritating at best, infuriating at best. Once again I reconsidered the fruitfulness of my endouvers.

"Do explain Lorcan." I drawled; imperious.

Lorcan was interesting to look at, he was not conventionally beautiful as all his features were exaggerated. Eyes wide; unnervingly pale, nose large; crooked, jaw; pronounced and distinctly square. Even his hair curled under his ears, inky black and fairly grown out. All together he was disgustingly devastating. His sharp stare and cutting nonchalance enticing as it was damning. It didn't help that he was tall and toned, a boy manufactured for the runway, or the road, or TV, anything extravagant and shallow really, he would fit right in.

Which he did, because he was, in fact, in a band. 

Not that of mattered to me. All I cared was that he was pretty and a good kisser with as much of a consciousness as I had: barely there, if at all present.

Even if he was he'll bent on proving otherwise tonight.

"I don't want to have sex with you. Oh, don't look at me like that. I don't want to... ruin you. It's a good thing."

I knew my eyes were the ones frozen this time, "So why did you agree to slip away? Is this some kind of role play, an ego trip?"

Each word was clipped, a glacier flung at his chest.

A disdainful stare. "Of course it's not. I don't not want to have sex with you," his gaze lingered on my bare collar bone, the black shirt slashed, accentuating the juncture, "I -- I didn't even want to do it with that fan, the blue haired girl. It's not you."

The desire to punch someone was insurmountable. I made to turn away, a disgusted noise escaping my throat.

"Elide." A hand enclosed along my wrist, hard enough to make me pause.

Enough. Half an hour, half an hour of reprieve is all I wanted. Was that too much? Even Stevan's was better than this, at least there the idiots were too busy drinking to bother talking to anyone else. This is why I preferred my altercations with people to involve no speaking. Emotions, every one had so many fucking emotions.

"What?" I snarled.

Lorcan's brows furrowed, a flash of something marring his expression, gone in a blink before his usual lying smile reappeared, but a tilt of his lips.

"I'm trying," he was still, words quiet, lethal; he was angry too. Good. "Something changed, I cared about what that girl would think after, what she would think about herself when I left and never looked her way again. I cared if I ruined her life, I cared for the first time in a very long time. Not enough, but it was there Elide. I cared."

He leaned forward, eyes flashing, I didn't give him the satisfaction of moving away. Even though we were so close, I could see the individual lashes of his eyes, so close I could feel his ire, graze his lips with mine if I so much as tilted my face up. I bared my teeth.

"So what? You're a saint now?" A laugh; brittle, condescending. His eyes shuttered. Stop. I should stop.

"I don't need saving. I don't need you not to 'ruin me'. And," I paused, tasting the ugliness of the words, enjoying the sharp flavour coating my tongue, "I do not care what you feel, or that you are trying. I do not care one bit."

His fingers slipped away. Eyes blank. I couldn't bring myself to care enough to apologise, to take it back. 

His words were mildly put, merely bland commentary on the weather. "You can hate yourself all you want Elide, but I'm not letting you drag me back with you, just because you are desperate and pathetic." 

Ice cooled my veins. 

Lorcan smiled, a callous, cruel thing, "You're acting desperate. Pathetic." 

"What happened to being a saint?"

"Apparently my disgust for you is stronger."

"For me, but not anyone else, not the blue haired girl?"

"I can't tell if you're jealous, Elise, or just an asshole."

"Oh please." I scoffed, turning away. "You're ego really is high today. I'll go find someone else if you're going to be useless."

A hand jerked me back sharply, causing me to stumble, I blinked as my ankle cried out in pain, my back hitting the wall. Cold began to seep through my top, as Lorcan towered over me, pushing me into the auburn bricks of Stevan's, the grit of the back alley wall digging into my skin. A warm breeze flicked my hair across my cheek, the short strands leaving feathering kisses on my skin.

'Who's pathetic and desperate now?" I sneered.

He paused. The grip on my wrist tightening, fingers digging into my wrist. His eyes were bright under the lights strewn along the mouth of the alley, leading to the front entrance of the diner/bar. We were cloaked in the darkness of the cul-de-sac, the pool of golden light straining to reach the edge of the shadows, where we stood. Two peopke stranded in the space between light and dark, how poetically accurate. Looking up at Lorcan, the chance for another lifetime flashed through my mind, there and then gone, little more than an aching memory. I didn't know what to do with it, so I pushed it aside, instead tracing the contours of his face with my eyes; his lidded eyes, tinged with desire and rage, his lips, soft and pursed, his dark lashes brushing cheeks bronzed under the sun. Lorcan's dark hair tickled my face as leaned down, ignoring the fact that he had pulled me back just as I was leaving. 

Explaining nothing, Lorcan simply slammed his mouth onto mine.

There was nothing sweet, or gentle about the kiss. He devoured my lips, as if trying to erase the taunt, or perhaps taste it. I tipping my head back, gripping his neck, digging my nails into his skin, drunk of his ferocity. What i had said was true, I didn't entirely care why he had stopped me from leaving, all that mattered was his lips on mine, so I opened my mouth surrendering to the demise which he offered.

His tongue swept in indolent, sure, sweeping my mouth and coaxing guttural sounds from my throat. He was a lit match and I was kerosene, there was nothing I wanted more than to become ashes under his touch. My hands roved his hair, his chest, his back, lower. But before my fingers could dip under his spine, he snatched at my hand, pinning it into the wall. His mouth latched onto my neck.

My breath hitched as his teeth grazed the skin under my ear, my throat, my collarbone sinking into the skin. I gasped, arching my back. A laugh rumbled from Lorcan, low, satisfied. He continued his administrations more vigorously, moving to my throat, my shoulder. The absolute bastard. I growled, ripping my hands from his. He merely leaned them against the wall above my head, caging me in, a small smile dancing on his lips as he took in my heavy breathing, my clenched fist, my furious eyes.

I said nothing, the sound of my panting a whetting stone to my rage, especially as he seemed unaffected as he peered down at me.

Lorcan lifted his fingers, his black polish coated nails glinting, as he pressed them to my neck. Flicking his gaze to mine, he let the amusement fall from his face, a predator shedding it's diguise as nothing but a glinting lust shone in his eyes. He flattened a palm on my skin, cool under his warm hands, thumb brushing my throat in time with my thundering pulse. His eyes didn't leave mine, as he brought up his other hand, running it from my shoulder, to my sternum, all the way down to my navel in a proprietary touch. The demand, the possessiveness in that touch.  
I shuddered, breathing faster. 

My lips parting to say what I didn't know, but before I could seethe, or insist anything he flicked open the buttons of my trouser and slipped his hands in. I bit my lip, hard, a strangled noise coming out of my mouth, my fingers digging into his biceps. He chuckled at the wetness he found there.

It was now he bought his mouth to my ear. "I'd say you're the desperate on sweetheart." he crooned.

Swallowing I hissed, the words taking a moment to cut through the fog of desirse, realising they were the answer to my earlier taunt. As if seeing the dots connecting on my face, he stroked a finger through my core in affirmation.

I panted, "You bastard." Still I didn't move away.

Lorcan only chuckled darkly, sliding his fingers inside me in a harsh motion, pumping them viciously as if he knew that I would not be pulling away. Heat crawled up my skin as I moaned aloud. Lorcan's hot breath slammed into my neck, "Do you care now Elide?" he hissed.

"No." I spat out. Clumsily grabbing at the spot straining his trousers and stroking it roughly through the cloth. If I was to be played with at his behest, so was he at mine. His answering groan sent a spear of heat through me, my knees threaghtened to buckle as he moaned in my ear; loud, unrestrained. No hint of his earlier reservations.

Lorcan sneered, "You're only making yourself look more pathetic." Though the jab fell short as his voice came out in a chocked rasp.

Seemingly having had enough of losing the upper hand, he didn't give me a chance to answer as his fingers picked up speed, his thumb flicking the bundle of nerves between my thighs repeatedly. I moaned, my breathing torn as he continued his deft ministrations. At my vocal response, he slammed harder, as if trying to wring out more proof of my yeilding to him, each rough pump echoed his intent; more, more. 

I had long since stopped trying to enact revenge, my hands once again clutching his arms to keep myself a loft. A whimper burst from my mouth, shattering between our feet, indeed a desperate, lewd note elicted from the pleasure of his dexterous ferocity. Red stained my ears at the noise. Lorcan paused.

He moved as if to lean back and see my face. See the crumbling expression. No. He would not have that satisfaction. I would not allow it. Reaching up I grabbed his neck, tugging him closer, hand trembling, arms locked, the movement causing his knuckles to brush my core.

My voice husky I whispered in his ear, "Keep going."

His muscles strained as if they would pull away despite the request. I knew I would regret it later, but my focus was narrowed on the feeling of his fingers at my apex, the need to have him finish what he had started pulsing through my veins, so I leaned forward. And licked a line up the column of his throat.

"Now."

He swallowed.

"Say please."

I stilled, eyes widening.

"Say please."

As if he would make me beg him for anything. I flicked my tongue over his ear in response, in sensual promise of what it could do in other places. 

"Say please Elide."

I grazed my nose over his throat, trembling with want.

"Say. Please." 

His fingers curled inside me in demand.

I was unable to stop the whimper that slipped past my lips. I felt him grin as he spoke, voice hoarse:

"Pathetic... but good enough for now."

"Asshole. You're an--" I gasped as he slipped a hand over my tailbone, skimming lower, a feather light touch. As he pinched the skin viciously. As he kneaded the flesh, slamming me further onto his fingers, as they once again pumped in, out; in, out; in out; in, out. Curling and flicking harshly; persistently.

"What am I?" He purred coldly, voice strained despite his taunting. My heavy breathing was the only answer, as I crushed my hips into his fingers.

"Eager huh?" he sneered, but I was already shuddering around his fingers as he kept moving, wringing out every ounce of pleasure. The sound of his cruel taunts ringing in my ear, feuling the my release. I clamped my teeth around his shoulders to muffle my cry, as pleasure racked through me; wave after wave. His other hand continued it's exploration up my spine, down my arm, around my neck, over my shoulder.

I panted into his skin, the air rushing in, cool on my own: sweat soaked, hot. His moss green shirt soft under my fingers when I opened my eyes, lifting my mouth from his bronze skin. A ring of teeth marks adorned it. That would certainly leave a bruise, even with his hair curling over the side, the shadows wreathing the night, they were prominent. Perhaps still delirious from desire, I had the strangest urge to suck on them. Hesitating for but a moment, I raked any reservations aside, no more than leaves on the autumn chilled ground.

So I did. 

Running my tongue over the dozen, or more half moon marks, I lowered my mouth, feeling Lorcan stiffen underneath me. His desire pressed into my hip, his breathing ragged. Hands gripped my waist, tightening with each second spilt on the concrete. I felt the muscles in his shoulders bunching in preparation, felt him grind his jaw, felt him blow out a breath, open his mouth to--

I stepped back.

Lifting wavering fingers to my head, I combed them through my shoulder length hair, trying to maintain some semblance of order, preferably one that didn't say I-just-made-out-and-more-in-the-back-alley. It didn't seem to be working.

Frowning, I flicked an onyx lock of hair back, staring pointedly at Lorcan's predicament, before levelling him a flat look.

"Looks like I'm not the only one who's eager."

He certainly clenched his jaw now, his dilated pupils flaring in indignation. I straightened my shirt, there was nothing to be done for the swollen lips, and stepped around Lorcan as if he were no more than an object in my path.

"That's it?" he called from behind, failing to keep the bewilderment out of his voice. "You have nothing to say?"

I paused, looking over my shoulder. 

"That's it." I replied, a faint smile gracing my lips.

I watched as Lorcan swallowed; once, twice. Watched as a flint flared in his eyes, but he only slipped his hands in his pockets, took out a tissue and cleaned his fingers and didn't say anything else. Ignoring the flicker of grudging appreciation mingled with desire, I turned.

Stalking out onto the sparse streets, the murmurs of the city at night washing over me, a hushed sort of hurry pressed the people.Perhaps I'd read a book whilst soaking in the bath after I quickly washed up. Yes. That sounded wonderful. My ankle gave a steady throb of pain as I made my way home, a different sort of melody than that of the hushed city bustle, but I found that I did not mind it, as I limped my way home. 

 

\----------------------------------  
Lorcan could only watch as the girl limped out of the alley, every bit as cold and callous as the day he'd met her. It did not seem to matter as much as it should have, that she had wrenched her hand through his ribs, splintering bone, rapturing flesh as she ripped out his heart and flung it at his scuffed boots. In fact he had even enjoyed it.

It had been years since Lorcan had lost his soul on some backwater road to a dusty town. Never in the years of touring, drugs, sex, ruination -- his own and other's -- had he looked back, missed it's pressing weight. Here, through, laughing, speaking, just existing in a city of crisp winters and mild summers, glass buildings and rolling hills, a place of celebrations; ethereal and savage in it's beauty had he begun to want it back, want to live once again. He had no longer the itch under his skin to find a violent oblivian, he was content to expend all his violence into living. He would never be Whitethrorn, with his penchant for right, but he was awakening, no longer festering. 

So when he had met Elide, a friend of Whitethorn's wife (whom he'd married a year ago, in their early twenties, he'd never understand why you would so early), he had slowly discovered her to be another reason to awaken. Granted, he had been unimpressed at first, attracted to her, curious of her, but unimpressed non-the-less: she had been waiting for them backstage. Her midnight black hair shorn to her pale, delicate collarbone, framing her full lips, stained red. Her cunning eyes pinched in shrewd contemplation as she took him in, they were twin pools of molten obsidian. Despite her pleasing curves and cool expression it was the way she held herself that caught his eye, that silence, as if it were watching, that utter certainty of her every breath, every movement. The unimpressed one over she had given Lorcan, leaning against the wall, between a leather couch and a set of lights. No more out of place than him.

It was only now that he looked at her, hips swishing in her skin tight trousers, white as snow, hugging her legs, defining each curve and hollow. The black shirt, simple yet slashed across her collar bone, the left side of her ribs revealing tantalising glimpses of her skin that he could barely hold his want in check. Even her flippantly ruthless words only added to the allure. 

Lorcan did not know what they were, did not let himself consider what they could be, still he could not control himself when she had told him she would find another to please him. He had no doubt she would; he didn't let himself look too closely at why it enraged him so. Why he wanted her to crumble under his fingers despite earlier proclaimations of not wanting to ruin her, and his fingers alone. Why she enraged and enticed him so. Why her blatant refusal to allow him release at her hands, did not deter him, but excited him all the more.

How he despised and desired her. The raven haired beauty with a witch's heart


End file.
